


Like the Fist of an Angry God

by atimi (bertee)



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Costume Parties & Masquerades, Exhibitionism, M/M, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-21
Updated: 2009-02-21
Packaged: 2017-11-02 03:42:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/364588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bertee/pseuds/atimi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Mike is an ass, Jensen hates costume parties, and Jared looks like a sex worker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like the Fist of an Angry God

Mike Rosenbaum, Jensen had decided, was an ass.

This wasn't a particularly new discovery - Mike's status as an ass had been confirmed years earlier during an awkward incident involving some handcuffs, some feathers, and a Smallville-loving hooker - but his latest plan had reinforced this belief.

By the mysterious power of television executives, Mike had been sent back up to the Great White North to film the first few episodes of a new show. (Jensen wasn't clear on what the show was about, but Mike had gleefully informed him that his character got to wear rollerskates and a blond wig.) In order to celebrate this glorious reunion between himself and Fellow Actors Stranded in Canada, Mike was having a party at his newly-rented house.

Jensen had no problem with a party in principle. He'd been to enough of Mike's parties to learn to enjoy the time spent drinking beer, smoking pot, and watching Mike get more and more handsy with Tom as the evening progressed. Hell, he'd actually been looking forward to a night that wasn't just him and Jared lazing on the couch before deciding they were both too exhausted for sex. Chris and Steve had managed to rework their schedule so that they were also in Vancouver that weekend, and Jensen had been generally upbeat about the prospect.

Or at least he was until he got Mike's email.

After beginning his friendly message with "Dear FASCists", Mike had then informed them all that the party would have a strict costume requirement, and that anyone not dressed as some kind of deity would be "smited by the hand of Jesus Rosenbaum, bitches". Despite the terrifying prospect of Mike-smiteage, it was not until he'd reached the bottom of the email that Jensen's opinion of Mike as an ass was firmly cemented for the rest of eternity. In large, bold, sparkly text (because yes, Mike Rosenbaum was the type of man who would make text sparkle), he had announced, "Ackles, you cannot wear that same fucking costume again. There are no cowboy gods."

And thus Jensen's hatred of Mike was born. Not only had he managed to leave him completely stumped as to what to wear that weekend, but he'd now informed Jensen's entire social circle that he had no imagination when it came to costumes. Jensen's days of wearing his standard, trusty and not entirely unattractive cowboy outfit to costume parties were well and truly over, and Mike fucking Rosenbaum had practically danced on his little cowboy grave.

He was an ass.

Jensen had thus spent a good three days channeling his some-son-of-a-bitch-just-foiled-my-foolproof-costume-plan-and-I'm-pissed-about-it angst into Dean Winchester's patented some-son-of-a-bitch-just-tried-to-kill-my-brother-and-I'm-pissed-about-it angst which, while probably more manly than Jensen's own, was no more valid.

This annoyance was not helped by the fact that Jared was apparently a seven year old girl and ridiculously excited about the prospect of finding a costume. Jensen had listened to him debate the merits of various deities between takes, during breaks, on the car ride home, and while they were watching TV in the evenings. However, he finally reached his Padalecki-ramble limit when he was kneeling in bed, lips around Jared's cock, and heard his co-star ponder aloud, "I could be Odin. Maybe I could spraypaint a pigeon and pretend it was a raven..."

Jensen could deal with a lot of things in bed but a mental image of Jared running after wildlife with a spraycan and a manic grin was not one of them. With the mood sufficiently killed, he'd given up, figuring Jared's dick could suck itself and going off to sleep in his own bedroom until the party had passed and Jared's attention was back on him instead of on ambushing pigeons. Mike was therefore (indirectly) responsible for Jensen not getting laid for a whole week, once again supporting the 'ass' theory.

Given his sex time had now been replaced by 'watch Jared obsess over a freaking costume' time, he'd decided to use the opportunity to come up with an outfit of his own.

He'd eliminated Jesus early on, partly because he'd feel mildly uncomfortable kissing his lovable yeti of a boyfriend while dressed like the Messiah, but mostly because Mike had already staked his claim on that particular deity and Jensen really didn't want to initiate a divine smackdown for the role of the son of God.

He'd Googled some Hindu, Japanese, Aztec, Native American and Celtic gods before deciding that if he couldn't pronounce their names when he was sober, he stood little chance of informing people who he was supposed to be when he'd sunk a few beers.

Finally, he'd considered going as an Egyptian god but, as easily pronounceable as their names were, Jensen's arts and crafts skills were not up to constructing a giant animal head from papier mâché. Not wanting to be suffocated to death with paper and paste while looking like a deformed hawk, he'd abandoned that set of deities and opted for his last resort.

It was through this last resort that he found himself standing outside wearing a pair of gymshorts, an old bedsheet and copious amounts of gold bodypaint as Mike opened his door with a grin.

"Jenny!" A beer was pushed into his hands and Mike ushered him inside as he yelled over his shoulder, "Kane, you owe me twenty bucks!"

Gravitating toward the pool and the chatter in the backyard, Jensen raised his eyebrows at Mike, the gold paint in his hair feeling stiff at the movement. "You bettin' on me?"

Mike shrugged unapologetically. "Yep. Kane thought you'd still come as Woody but I said that you'd be too scared of my awesome smiting powers." He mimed a ninja chop. Evidently smiting was now a martial art. "No-one fucks with Jesus."

Jensen looked down at the other man's outfit. The over-sized bedsheet, worn sandals, and fake beard all seemed par for the course, but he remained mystified by the addition of the large purple hat and the cane. "You're Jesus?"

"Hell, yeah." Mike let out a contented belch. "Tonight, I am the motherfucking Messiah, Jenny."

"You're Jewish."

"So was he," Mike shot back cheerfully.

"Was he a pimp too?" he teased. "Or is that artistic license?"

"Dude, he claimed he could turn water into wine. He hung out with a hooker. The entire fucking Round Table went looking for his cup. Damn right the guy was a pimp." He clapped Jensen on the shoulder before pulling his hand away and checking it for gold paint. "Okay, I know you're not a cowboy, so props for that, but what the fuck are you?"

"Apollo," Jensen admitted with a smirk. "He was the Greek sun-god."

Mike made a drawn out noise of comprehension and wobbled slightly, and Jensen wondered how much he'd had to drink already. However, he managed to stay upright and tilted his head at Jensen's painted arms before he commented with a chuckle, "That makes sense. I was beginning to think Padalecki had gone all Goldfinger on your ass."

He laughed again, and Jensen's lips curved up in a smile at the image of Jared sneaking into his room at night to paint him gold. (Jensen wasn't sure what part of Jared screamed 'Imagine me painting random shit!' but this was starting to develop into a pattern.) He wrinkled his nose when Mike patted him experimentally on the head, giggling drunkenly to himself at the resistance put up by Jensen's paint-covered hair before tapping his cheek and declaring, "You looking fucking awesome, Jen. Get wasted."

In addition to kung-fu smiting, Jesus Rosenbaum apparently possessed the power of mind control and less than two hours later Jensen found himself sprawled on one of the couches by the pool with a beer in one hand and a fortune cookie in the other.

Tom had taken it upon himself to dress as Buddha by wearing a plastic-looking sumo-wrestler costume. After spending half the evening struggling to reach Tom's mouth, Mike had given up on his attempts at molestation and had provided Tom with a batch of fortune cookies so that he could offer deep insights to the assembled guests. Deep insights which were invariably followed by the words "in bed".

Sipping his beer, Jensen watched absently as Tom did his best to look at Chris over his near-spherical costume. "And what does the universe have in store for you, o short half-of-Krishna?"

Jensen snorted into his beer at the comment and received a blue elbow to his ribs in return. That evening, Chris and Steve had shown up with their legs in the same pair of clown pants and their torsos covered in blue body paint, telling people that they were dressed as the Hindu god Krishna, who was apparently blue and had multiple arms.

When Jensen had voiced the entirely reasonable opinion that they looked more like conjoined Smurfs, Chris had tried and failed to smack him round the head, and so had instead settled for the retort, "Your mom's a conjoined Smurf." With the usual Texan pleasantries out of the way, they'd then proceeded to get staggeringly drunk with the result that Jensen had spent the last thirty minutes laughing at them as they tried to negotiate their way around the pool.

They had finally made it in time to join in with the inappropriate interpretations of fortune cookies and, still sitting on Steve's lap, Chris broke his cookie open with a drum roll and proclaimed, "Your skill will accomplish what the force of many cannot..."

"...in bed!" Mike added with a cackle before looking over Chris' shoulder at Steve. "What's he got you doing?"

"He offers me sexual favors to take out the trash," Steve deadpanned.

Buddha-Tom grinned. "You are wise, little panda."

Chris narrowed his eyes, offended. "Did you just call me a little panda?" He stood up, fully prepared to launch himself at Tom, but was stopped by Steve's arms round his waist as well as by their communal pants.

Wrestling a struggling Chris back down to a sitting position, Steve explained with a slurred apology, "Sorry, dude. He has height insecurity."

"Fuck you," Chris shot back, but nevertheless allowed Steve to settle him back on his lap.

"Good things come in small packages," his partner reassured quickly and promptly opened his own cookie before Chris could argue further.

Looking slightly bemused, Steve announced, "An alien of some sort will be appearing to you shortly..."

"...in bed?"

Buddha-Tom and Jesus Rosenbaum exchanged confused looks while Jensen (who'd been nicknamed Je-llo by Tom but refused to think of himself as a wobbly foodstuff) raised his eyebrows at Steve and said teasingly, "You been cheating on him with E.T.?"

Chris answered for him, "Nope." He flashed him a cheesy grin. "Just means I'm outta this world in the sack."

There was a collective groan and Mike downed the rest of his beer before saying, "Bad jokes make the baby Jesus cry, Kane."

Chris looked skeptical. "You're crying?"

Mike sniffled melodramatically. "On the inside."

Trying to distract the group before Mike actually did start crying to prove a point, Jensen cracked open his cookie and read, "Try everything once, even the things you don't think you'll like..."

Chris and Steve had barely finished getting out the words "...in bed!" before there was a familiar laugh from behind them.

"That's awesome advice."

Confused, Jensen turned round and felt a relieved smile spread across his face when he saw Jared standing behind him, smirking at the fortune. "See, Jen, I knew you should let me experiment more." He schooled his face into a faux-serious expression. "I'm still hurt that you turned down the French maid outfit."

Jensen gave him a solid punch on the arm, still unable to stop himself smiling at his arrival, and then looked him up and down. Seeing his shaggier-than-usual hair, tight black vest, and even tighter black pants, he tilted his head in contemplation and tried not to sound too turned on when he asked, "Who are you meant to be?"

Jared flexed his muscles for the benefit of the group lounging on the chairs and broadcast in a deep voice, "I am Thor." Jensen waited for the inevitable, and Jared didn't disappoint, adding with a grin, "The hammer is my penis."

There was laughter from behind him, but Jensen frowned when Jared met his gaze head on, something indecipherable flickering through his eyes. It was gone in an instant, and he stepped aside to let Jared stand next to him as he called to Tom, "Hey, Buddha, can I get a fortune too, or were they just for the people who got here on time?"

Impeded by the fat suit, Buddha-Tom managed a half-bow, only just righting himself before he faceplanted onto the ground, and lobbed a fortune cookie in Jared's direction. "Fortunes are for all, little Sasquatch."

Catching the cookie, Jared opened his mouth to protest the nickname when Jensen cut in with a sigh, "Just don't ask. According to Tom, Buddha liked calling people little animals."

Buddha-Tom nodded and swayed a little. "Very true, little Simba."

It was Jensen's turn to protest. "Simba?!"

Jared chuckled, and Jensen shook his head when he ran a testing hand through his increasingly crunchy hair. "You do look kinda like Simba, Jen. I just hope that stuff washes out by Monday or Dean's gonna need to get possessed by a lion-demon for the next week."

Jensen shot him a weak glare, irrationally protective of his sprayed hair (although God knows why - he was fully aware he'd had far worse hair styles in the past.) "At least I don't look like I work in a sex dungeon."

Jared was unfazed. "Dude, if I worked in a sex dungeon, you'd be there every night." Jensen's cheeks flushed red, which he chose to believe was from the alcohol rather than any possible truth in that statement, and he was grateful when Jared turned his attention to his fortune. Popping the broken cookie in his mouth, he stated dramatically, "Keep your plans secret for now..."

"...in bed," came the curious response followed by a wolf-whistle from Mike.

"You got something up your sleeve, big guy?"

Jared looked more devious than Jensen ever remembered seeing him as he said with a knowing smirk, "Maybe..." His eyes traveled back to Jensen and he asked with a wink, "Mind if I steal Simba for a few minutes?"

"Knock yourself out." Lounging back in his chair, Mike's brow creased as he reconsidered, "Actually, don't knock yourself out. You scared the fuck out of us last time when that pan fell on your head; I don't need an embolism tonight." He fixed Jensen with a stern gaze and ordered, "Do not let the giant kill himself. I will smite your shiny little ass if he dies."

Jensen saluted. "No dying. Yes, Sir."

"Holy shit, is Jeff here?" Mike teased at the form of address, but Jensen ignored him as he got to his feet and walked away from the group with Jared.

The fuzz of alcohol lingered at the edges of his brain, but not enough to hinder him in any real way when he asked his too-quiet housemate, "What's up? Everything go okay tonight?"

"Yeah, it was fine," Jared assured easily, leading him around the side of the house and leaning against the wall. "Y'know, it was work, but it was fine." He smiled when he looked down at Jensen's costume, playing with the sheet that hung from his shoulder to his knees. "Who'd you come as in the end?"

"Apollo." Jensen spread his arms as though that would make him look more sun-god-esque and asked, "What do you think?"

"It's not a cowboy," Jared said with a grin. "I guess that's progress. It does kinda look like you should be doing interpretative dance somewhere though."

"Shut up." He nudged him in the ribs, relaxing when Jared's hands came to rest on his hips. "I wasn't kidding before, y'know. You look like you should be spanking someone's ass in that outfit."

Smiling, Jared leaned in. "Who says I'm not going to?" A shiver ran through Jensen before he could stop it, and Jared nipped playfully at his jaw. "You like that?" Jensen stayed purposefully quiet and Jared chuckled. "Maybe another night. I have secret plans, remember."

"You have secret plans?" he repeated, amused. "Jared, you know that not everything in a fortune cookie has to come true, right?"

Jared looked scandalized. "What?! Do not doubt the power of the fortune cookies." He leaned in close, nose almost brushing Jensen's as he intoned, "They know all." Before Jensen could adequately deal with the fact that Jared was right there in his face making mystic prophecies, he pulled back and said with his usual grin, "So I'm gonna go say hi to our friends. I figure I should at least pretend I'm here to enjoy Mike's company instead of to have sex with you." He backed off towards the pool area but pre-empted Jensen's complaints about the lack of sex with the blunt instruction, "Go clean yourself up. I'll be back soon."

Blinking at the command, he held his bedsheet out, flapping it demonstratively as he pointed out, "Not exactly got any slick with me right now, man."

Jared smirked, his eyes shadowed by his hair. "I didn't say to lube yourself up. I said to clean yourself up. You're going deaf in your old age."

"Screw you," Jensen threw back half-heartedly, still focused on what the notoriously disorganized Jared could have planned for the evening. Watching him disappear around the corner and back to the pool, he headed inside to the bathroom, deciding that his cowboy outfit was much better at concealing hard-ons than a sheet and gymshorts.

Thankfully Jared seemed to have learned to be prompt as well as organized. Jensen practically sighed in relief when he exited the bathroom ten minutes later to find that Jared was waiting for him by the stairs, thereby sparing him the embarrassment of having to wander through the party while sporting wood. Trying to remain as nonchalant as possible, he followed Jared's lead up the stairs as he asked, "You gonna give me any clue what we're doing up here?"

Jared flashed him a shit-eating grin. "Having sex." He stopped in front of a door. "A-ha!"

Jensen rolled his eyes. "Was it good for you?"

"Ha ha," Jared returned sarcastically. "Get in here and stop complaining at me."

Buoyed by the earlier promise of sex, Jensen followed him into the bedroom. Hearing Jared close and lock the door, he reached for the light switch but was stopped by his co-star's large hand closing around his wrist and tugging him away. "Ah, ah. No lights, Jen. Wouldn't want anyone to see what we're doing in here."

He nodded to the side and for the first time Jensen noticed the floor-length windows that made up the far wall of the room. They looked out onto the backyard, the lights from outside casting a faint glow over the darkened room as Jensen wandered curiously over the windows to see just how visible they would be. From only one floor up, he could see everything below and could hear some of the noise through the thick glass as someone dressed as Poseidon initiated a wet t-shirt contest around the pool.

Feeling like he was in an aquarium, Jensen exhaled peacefully as Jared's arms came to wrap around his waist, and he tilted his head at the smattering of kisses down his neck and his bare shoulder. Lost in the action below, he was taken by surprise when Jared spoke, voice low and soothing in his ear, "You've been sleeping downstairs this week."

Jensen sighed. He'd wondered when this was going to come up. Running his thumb over Jared's entwined hands, he murmured back, "Yeah."

Jared's chin rested on his shoulder. "You pissed at me?"

"Not anymore," he admitted, twisting his head to kiss him on the lips but frowning when Jared didn't respond. "What's up?"

Jared shifted uncomfortably behind him. "I haven't been paying you enough attention."

Jensen almost laughed at the melancholy in his voice. "Jared, I'm not your damn wife. If you've got stuff on your mind, that's cool; I'll give you some space. We don't need to have the 'how was your day?' conversation every night."

"No."

"What?"

"No," Jared repeated firmly, tightening his grip on his waist. "I've been a dick this week, and I'm sorry. I know I've had a lot on my plate with the show and everything, but I feel like I've barely seen you since Wednesday."

Jensen shrugged, toying with Jared's watch. "It's no big deal-"

"Dude, I was talking about pigeons while you were blowing me," Jared interrupted, sounding astounded at his own behavior. "Pigeons. Who the fuck thinks about pigeons when they've got someone as hot as you in bed with them?"

Jensen shrugged again, not really wanting to admit that he'd been asking himself the same question for the past three days. "Pigeon enthusiasts?" He turned to face him, seeing his face lit by the second-hand light from outside, and leaned up to kiss his lips, trying not to fall over in the process. "Okay, you were a dick. Now make it up to me."

There was a momentary rush of pleasure when Jared got his head in the game and kissed back in a rush of demanding tongue and hungry lips, and Jensen nearly groaned when he pulled back a second later. All set to persuade him that he was not harboring some grudge against him and all of pigeon-kind, he was relieved to see the familiar spark of mischief back in Jared's eyes as his hands worked their way under Jensen's toga-cum-bedsheet.

"Lose the shorts."

Jensen complied as fast as humanly possible. (Well, as fast as possible for an intoxicated human who got the shorts stuck round his ankles and then fell over in a messy heap of sheets, gold paint and ugly sandals.) When Jared had helped to detach him from his shorts and his less than attractive god-sandals, he maneuvered him back against the window, his voice low and smoky as he promised, "I'm gonna pay more than enough attention to you tonight. In fact-" He turned him around so that Jensen was looking out on the party below. "-a whole lot of people could be paying attention to you tonight as well." His teeth tugged gently on his earlobe and Jensen swallowed hard in anticipation. "Put your hands on the window and keep them there."

Closing his eyes, Jensen obeyed and splayed his fingers on the cool glass. His eyes fluttered closed as Jared's hands roamed over his body, positioning his hips so that Jensen was forced to bend at the waist, and nudging his legs wide apart. Biting his lip, Jensen focused on the rippling water of the pool outside while his one remaining item of clothing was pushed up to rest high on his back, leaving his ass raised, exposed and open to-

"Oh, God!"

He arched his back at the wet pressure of Jared's mouth at the base of his spine, locking his knees in place to stop them from buckling. The stubble on his jaw scraped against the curve of his ass and Jensen parted his legs further when he felt Jared's tongue dip between his cheeks. "Jay..."

"Shhh." The heat of his tongue disappeared as Jared sank to his knees on the carpet behind him. "Keep your hands where they are and try to relax."

Jensen's intended retort about how hard it was to relax while his boyfriend was licking him open in front of an unsuspecting audience was swamped by his own moans as Jared returned his attention to his previous task, now planting light kisses in the crease between thigh and cheek while Jensen tried not to squirm. Legs shaking with the effort of keeping still, he lifted his head to the window and saw his own wide-eyed reflection looking back at him from the glass, sweat starting to sheen on his paint-streaked forehead.

Jared's talented tongue slid between his cheeks again, his hands holding him open as Jensen gasped helplessly at the sensations around his clenching hole. His thumbs rubbed his cheeks with calming strokes and Jensen's knees nearly gave out when Jared breached the tight ring of muscle, the pulsing, flicking heat of his tongue pushing inside him and ripping torn cries from his throat. "Holy fuck, Jared..."

Cock throbbing between his legs, Jensen fought to keep his hands in place on the glass while his hips tried to rock back against the penetrating warmth, wanting more, faster, deeper. The laughter from outside pulled him away from the desperation of his own image in the window, but did nothing to stop the arousal flooding through him. The prospect of being discovered like this, moaning and wanton, sparked a swirl of heat in his belly and more pre-come dripped from his dick as he dropped his head with a sob of need.

Suddenly Jared's tongue and hands were gone, and Jensen almost lost his balance, fingers clutching in vain at the smooth pane to keep him in position. He struggled to look behind him, but was calmed by the weight of a hand on his lower back and the familiar snick of a tube of lubricant.

"Take it easy." The gravelly undertone to Jared's voice informed Jensen that his partner was just as turned on as he was, and he gasped as two of Jared's lubed fingers eased their way inside him. "Deep breaths now, Jen. You start screaming, and someone down there might hear you." Jared laughed darkly. "Hell, they're pretty close to seeing you anyway. All it'd take is one quick glance in this direction and they'd see you bent over and practically begging me to fuck you." He curled his fingers inside him, stretching and stroking to the sound of Jensen's whimpers. "Maybe I should show them. Turn on the light and let them all watch your tight little ass getting reamed."

Jensen's protest was smothered by an impatient groan when Jared added another finger and crooked them against his prostate. He stared down at the party, watching their oblivious friends below as he tried not to come from the combined stimulation of the fingers in his ass and the terrifying but arousing prospect of people seeing them. His hot breath left a cloud of condensation on the glass and he let his head fall again, legs and arms shuddering with each inhale and exhale.

"I wonder if this is what gods do," Jared wondered aloud, fingers still fucking in and out of Jensen's ass with agonizing slowness. "I mean, if we were immortal and lived on a mountain in Ancient Greece, I would totally spend my time doing this."

Jensen laughed under his breath at the visual and let some of the tension in his shoulders ebb away, still painfully hard but in a less intense headspace as Jared's words washed over him. "Think about it, Jen. If you could live forever, you could spend hours like this, so fucking close to the rest of the world that if someone just looked the wrong way, they'd see everything. We could be surrounded by everyone else but have a cloud protecting just us."

"A cloud?" Jensen repeated, his mocking tone cracking under the jolts of pleasure from his prostate.

Jared shrugged, and Jensen could swear he felt the movement all the way to the tips of his fingers. "Or a mist. Or a fog. Some shit like that." His hand inched its way up Jensen's thigh, skimming the layers of paint that Jensen had smeared on earlier, before squeezing his ass firmly. "I think I could live forever and never get bored of this."

Rolling his shoulders as best he could, Jensen countered, "Speak for yourself."

Jared kissed the back of his knee knowingly and he couldn't help but shiver. "You saying you're bored, Jen?"

"Bored might not, ah, be the exact word," he ground out, feeling that well-known yearning low in his stomach. "Please, Jay, just fuck me already, man. I-"

"Okay," Jared promised, sounding equally relieved. "Okay."

His fingers withdrew and the emptiness hit Jensen with the sharpness of a slap, making him push his ass back in search of something to fill it. "C'mon, Jared... Please..."

The sound of Jared's voice was like honey on a toothache, sweet and distracting enough to numb the nerves for a few short seconds.

"Christ, you have no idea how good you look like this. All slick and needy and fucking glowing..." Tongue and teeth mapped a path up his lower back, Jared's mouth kissing each ridge of his spine like beads on a rosary. "What the fuck did I ever do right enough to end up with you?"

"You were fucking awesome in bed," Jensen gasped, breaths shuddering along his ribs as Jared gripped his hips. "Fuck, Jared, fuck me... Fuck me..."

If his pleas were ragged, they were nothing compared to the groan that vibrated from his lips when Jared drove home, damp hands sliding on damp skin to make Jensen feel stretched in the best kinds of ways. The buzz of the earlier alcohol was dwarfed by the sensations sparking through his nerves at every scrape against his prostate and the coil of impending orgasm began to tighten even as Jared had barely started to set a punishing rhythm, gripping his hips hard enough to leave dusty bruises in the morning.

Jensen moaned, his hands and legs spread wide as though in surrender but his hips and body grinding and pushing in the center of the action. Jared gasped behind him, some of his words lost to the blood pounding in Jensen's ears, "Jen, fuck... So fucking good... Want... Perfect..."

Warmed further by his voice even with sweat trickling down his limbs, Jensen felt Jared's arm loop round his waist, stopping him from falling and allowing him to alter the angle of his thrusts to give them that little extra that they both needed. He lost track of Jared's movements when his eyes shut tightly, toes curled into the carpet and barely aware whether he was even standing anymore as he let himself go, the world whiting out behind his eyelids while he shouted something that might have been Jared's name.

A rush of heat filled him when Jared came a second later, followed by the sensation of his knees hitting the floor as his legs finally collapse to send him slumping back against a warm body while the last tendrils of ecstasy snaked through his veins. One by one, his surroundings came back into focus, the redness of his palms from where they slid down the window, the mess of come, sweat and paint that stained his makeshift toga, and the strong arms encircling his body in a snug embrace.

His head fell back against Jared's shoulder, their cheeks bumping together as he mumbled, "That was incredible." He sighed contentedly. "Seriously. Incredible."

Jared smiled. "Right back at you."

Detangling himself from his boyfriend, Jensen leaned back and said between heavy breaths, "You should ignore me more often if this is what I get from it."

"Funny," Jared replied sarcastically, tucking himself back into his pants. "Just so you know, I'm not letting you sleep downstairs ever again. Ever. I'll tie you to the bed if I need to."

Jensen raised his eyebrows. "Dude, I'm gonna need at least half an hour recovery time before you start tying me to the bed."

Jared checked his watch with a hopeful grin. "It'd take us twenty minutes to get home..."

Pursing his lips, Jensen glanced out of the window ruefully as Jared's hand inched up his thigh. "We should really stay and hang out with Mike. Really. It's the right thing to do. It's-"

He sighed.

"Fuck it, let's go home."

Jared beamed. "I knew you'd see it my way." He glanced down at Jensen's costume. "It's not like you can go back out dressed like that anyway. It looks like someone fingerpainted all over you."

"Yeah, someone with fucking giant fingers," he retorted, looking at the smudges decorating his body.

Jared did a very convincing demonstration of jazz hands and teased, "I didn't hear you complaining about my giant fingers earlier when they were doing actual fucking." Jensen slapped him on the arm and he conceded, "Fine, fine. Let me go clean up and then we can make up an excuse for why we're leaving early. With any luck Mike'll be off trying to get Tom out of that fatsuit and won't notice we're missing."

With a mischievous grin, he wandered off to the bathroom, leaving Jensen sitting on the floor while he waited to regain full feeling in his legs. Watching the party outside, he smiled to himself when he saw that an inebriated Mike had mounted a laughing Tom and was indeed trying to drag him bodily out of his sumo-Buddha suit.

Inwardly comparing that evening to previous costume parties, Jensen revised his earlier opinion of Mike as an irredeemable ass; Apollo definitely got way better sex than Woody.


End file.
